


Symposium

by sunshine_and_symphonies



Series: Symposium [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alfred is Tom's God-father, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Is a Sweetheart, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a Sunshine Child, Marinette has good parents, Nicknames, No beta because the author doesn't know how to find one, Not a soulmate AU despite the intro, Pre-Miraculous Ladybug, Serial Adopter Bruce Wayne, Strangers to Lovers, The Author Regrets Nothing, The author does not know what they are doing but wrote this in two days, The circumstances of Jason's Death are Unclear, This is my first work on this website and I..., This started as a small idea and oops, but also kinda everything, even to the author, eventually, this is gonna be a long ride, we are playing FAST and LOOSE with cannon and fannon and EVERYTHING in-between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshine_and_symphonies/pseuds/sunshine_and_symphonies
Summary: The Greeks once believed that each person was born with four legs, four arms and two heads. Out of fear for their power, the great god Zeus split them apart and forced them to wander the world for their other half. And while soulmates may not be real, it is human nature to see out your supposed "other half". It was a process that often took several years and many, many heartbreaks to arrive at that final, golden, destination.Fate, however, would seem to have other plans for two such individuals.In which Damian is not lost and yet, somehow, Marinette keeps finding him.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Damian Wayne, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Dick Grayson, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Symposium [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162280
Comments: 18
Kudos: 152





	Symposium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bogorm123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bogorm123/gifts).



> This is not going to be a standalone, wooo boy far from it. I just wanted to get this part posted so that I can figure out how the heck posting works. More notes at the end!
> 
> Have fun! I love you!

The Greeks once believed that each person was born with four legs, four arms and two heads. Out of fear for their power, the great god Zeus split them apart and forced them to wander the world for their other half. Of course, this implies that soulmates are real. Several iterations of soulmate theories exist, none of them proven to be true. However, it is human nature to search for someone who compliments you both in life and in character. To find love is a great gift, to find a love strong enough to transcend borders and adversity is as close as one may come to finding their “other half”.

This, if one believes that there is only one person for them, is very difficult given the population of the world. People will often settle for close matches, choosing love. The media would become saturated with soulmates, love stories and other such substitutes for connection. Love would pass in fleeting winds or be as forceful as torrential rains. Hearts would be broken and mended until they found the person they decided to choose to love, for better or for worse. It was a process that often took several years and many, many heartbreaks to arrive at that final, golden, destination.

Fate, however, would seem to have other plans for two such individuals. 

\----

Damian was six when he first met Marinette. For reasons that only his mother knew, they had been sent to France to try and retrieve a collection of artifacts instrumental to the future of the League. They’re in the Louvre when it happens, scanning the Egyptian exhibit for any inclination of where these artifacts could be, something that his mother had only told him that they would be Miraculous. His mission was to seek out any representations of a Ladybug spotted figure within the ancient sandstone while his mother searched the Grecian wing for other leads regarding the location. He had been at it for nearly an hour and had yet to find any concrete signs amongst the sheer mass of people pressing up against the railings and the faded colours. 

When there’s a tap on his shoulder, years of training have him grabbing the hand with half a thought and pulling it down. He turns to face the owner of the light footsteps he heard coming up behind him, a mask of neutrality in place to maintain the cover he had been assigned. Instead of some adult with dubious intentions, he’s greeted by the wide smile of a young girl who babbles something to him in French. He blinks, trying to make sense of what is being said and glancing about for Talia. The girl pauses, smile fading as she tilts her head and tugs on her wrist gently. He drops her hand and nods stiffly before marching towards the Grecian exhibit. There’s a quick shout, and Damian spins to face the girl again, a scowl beginning to climb onto his face.

“ _Es-tu perdu? As-tu besoin d’aide? Comment tu dis_ … You… Lost? Help?” Her eyes are a startling shade of blue, and filled with something he deems suspicious.

“Non.”

“ _Quoi? Ça-va_?” She gives him the colloquial gesture of a thumbs up with a tilt of her head. 

He nods stiffly, turning back to the sandstone plaque that is near the exit to the Grecian exhibit. She stands next to him after a moment, looking at it. With a smile, she hums before babbling something at him. Her finger is pointing at a pair of hieroglyphics that give the words “wish”, “god” and “danger”. He scans the other words before it, finding “insect” and “cat”. From her expression, she cannot read the script as he can, easing some of his suspicion that she could be an opposing agent. He suspects that she is just a civilian, no doubt attempting to gain something from him. After a moment, she grabs his hand with a weak grip and pulls him towards a carved sarcophagus. She gestures widely, smiling at him pointing to the spotted collar that the figure sports and the previous hieroglyphics.  
“Je ne comprends pas.” 

She pauses for a moment, filtering his words before speaking very slowly and pointing between the two features of the exhibit. “ _Les images sont similaires. Ils sont très jolis, non_?”

“Je ne parle pas le Francais.” He snaps, annoyed at being treated as unintelligent. 

Undeterred, she points at the spotted collar and the hieroglyphics again. “They are… match? Both are very… _quel est le mot_ … nice?”

Two adults come up behind her as she pieces together the words. The man is heavyset with broad shoulders and wide hands, the woman slight and dressed in a white and red qipao. They demand something of the girl in French, and she shades pink as she mutters something in acquiescence. The pair turn to him, assessing him briefly, before asking another question to the young girl in pink. There’s a brief back and forth, and Damian spots Talia moving through the crowd towards him. He nods when her eyes find him, and she begins to head to the rendezvous point.

The woman crouches down to his level, looking at him with a vulnerable expression. “ _Pardon, mais où sont tes parents… Comment s’appelle-t-il Marinette?_ "

The girl goes red, and she shuffles on the ground. “ _Je ne sais pas, Maman. Il ne dit pas._ ”

Damian realizes what they are attempting to do. They must believe that he is a lost child without his parents, as his current cover dictates. A curse in Arabic flits through his head at having to do this mission in the daylight. He needs to get to the rendezvous point without additional distractions to confer with his mother.

“Ça va, madame.”

The woman pauses before nodding, her eyes sparking at his words. “Your name?” Her English is heavily accented, but clearly better than that of her daughter. 

“Damian.”

Something flashes in her eyes, and she smiles brightly. “It is a nice name. We will take you to the front doors.”

It seems as though there is only one way out of this situation. Damian nods once and begins to follow the trio towards the door. The girl, Marinette smiles at him brightly, pointing out the different instances where the same pattern appears again. The man is restraining her slightly by holding one of her hands, murmuring something to the woman on his right side. At the exit, Damian spots Talia and nods once when her face twists into a frown.

The family stops once they arrive, and the woman crouches down again. “We will leave you here, Damian. If you need assistance when you are in France, find our bakery on the 7th arrondissement. Good fortune on your journey.”

He freezes at the standard acknowledgement, hand creeping towards his concealed dagger. The man says something to the girl and she babbles something in french before darting in to give him a brief embrace. He sizes at the unexpected contact, waiting for something else to happen. The family retreats as Talia approaches, and when he glances over at them they have faded into the crowd.

For the rest of the mission, he cannot shake the image of the young girl smiling widely at him while showing him the different pieces of a former Ladybug, wholly unaware of the knowledge she gives to him. 

\----

The pair run into each other, literally, when Marinette is eight. In a tangle of limbs on a sunny Paris afternoon, a trained assassin and clumsy baker's daughter fall onto the manicured grass of _Le Jardin du Luxembourg_. There is a moment of stillness as they gather their bearings. Damian uncoils from the tangle with a huff and stands, casting his eyes around to see if he can spot the markers needed.

" _Oh mon dieu, Je suis désolée pour_ … _C’est_ vous?”

He glances down at the exclamation, finding a pair of wide blue eyes surrounded by raven hair. Grass stains marr the pale pink of her dungarees at the knees and back, the white and black striped shirt underneath falling untucked. A pink hair bow has fallen onto the ground.

“Pardon?” His mind spins frantically to catch how he knows her, the demeanour and bright smile pulling up an image from the one trip that…

“At _Le Louvre_ , we… _comment dis tu…_ help you?” She smiles at him as she scrambles up and plucks her hair bow from the ground.

The bright smile, the mission to find information on Ladybug, the pair of unassuming parents that seemed to know more than they should all fall into place. He nods at her stiffly, turning back towards the space in the garden. Her brow furrows at his dismissal, and she mutters something in French again that he can’t quite catch. His languages are coming along, but French was not as high a priority as English at the moment. A trickle of sweat slides down his neck as he realizes that he is losing time on this task, and if he misses any more checkpoints it will mean punishment for failure.

A soft tap on his shoulder makes him turn, scowl etched on his face at the interruption to his concentration. “ _Quoi_?”

“Lost?” She questions softly, her eyes losing the sharp edge on them.

He scoffs. “No, I am not lost. Simply… delayed.”

“Where go you?”

Her English is heavily accented but markedly better than three years ago. “I have a… meeting at _La Tour Eiffel._ ” 

She lights up in a grin and grabs his hand before breaking into a sprint towards the edge of the garden. “ _On y va_!”

Despite her apparent clumsiness, the girl (Marinette? He will need to confirm that intel) pulls him through the different streets of the arrondissement. She chatters the whole way, gasping for breath here and there as they stop for the crosswalk signs. Occasionally she glances over her shoulder as if to check for someone tailing them. Damian notices ticks of nerves in her as she tucks and retucks her hair behind her ear when they stop. They dart through an open market, people shouting at them angrily in French as Marinette calls out what sounds like various apologies and excuses.

He can’t help it - the moment they hit the market he slows marginally to gobble up the sights and colours. The League was adamant that France, Paris especially, was a city of promiscuity and corrupt morals. While it was only second to Gotham, he knew that his mission was to gain insights into the city. In the bustle of an early Saturday market, he cannot help but question that. The people laugh and gossip politely as they move through the different stalls. Fresh fruit nearly spills from various baskets, and women toting brown-paper wrapped bouquets pay for fresh eggs. Someone sells scarves and small paintings next to a heavyset man who has dozens of fish packed on a bed of ice. Marinette seems to notice his observations and slows her tugging slightly to give him time to take it in. For her, this is a regular Saturday - for him it is almost a revelation.

The scent of baking bread pulls Damian back to present. A small stand with a jaunty black, pink and gold tent stands before them with the same adults that he recognizes to be Marinette's parents. She shoots something to them rapidfire at their apparent dismay at seeing her, and gestures to Damian. He nods slightly as they put the pieces together, Marinette begs something else and as soon as he pulls “ _oui_ '' from the long string of words that spills from the older woman’s mouth, they are off again through the market. Marinette pulls him through the back pathway behind most stands, grinning to the startled owners and pulls him into a new back alley. Despite his training, he is slightly disoriented from their rapid turns and changes. His mind remains preoccupied with the market they left behind. How could someone so small and unassuming would be so comfortable in a place such as that, where they fail to have good vantage points and adequate understandings of the terrain? He grudgingly realizes that she may deserve a kernel of respect for her navigational ability, but dismisses it as an advantage bred from being in a familiar city. They slow from their earlier pace, and once they round a final corner, Damian spots the decorated sandstone of École Militaire. Directly North of where they face, the Eiffel Tower rises from the ground, a steel monument of human ingenuity and artistry. Marinette drops his hand from her grip to brace her hands on the grass-stained denim and gasp her breath. Her one-sided conversation had stopped after the brief meeting with her parents, and her face is now stained red from exertion. Her back heaves for a few moments as she sucks in great gulps of air before righting herself and fixing her hair bow. 

Damian stands next to her for a moment, a tendril of unknown warmth rising in his belly. She beams at him, and gestures to the monument not even a block away.

“ _Et Voila_! The Eiffel Tower!” Her accent is heavy, turning “the” into “zee” and muddying the vowels of “tower”, but he cannot help the lack of scowl.

“ _Merci, mademoiselle_.”

There’s a flash of something in her eyes that dims her smile before it returns full force. She darts in and gives him a quick hug before turning away, jogging back towards the market. Damian mutters about lack of training and over enthusiasm and how it leads to no good before there’s a sharp shout behind him. He spins on instinct, falling into one of his stances and skims across the stream of people near him for its source. A blur of pink careens towards him, and he stands once he recognizes the grass stains on the knees and the pink bow slipping out of raven hair.

“ _Quoi_ ,” He nearly demands, voice flat.

She hesitates again before squaring her shoulders and shoving a brown paper bag into his hands. On the side of it sits the logo that had adorned the tent of her parents. “ _Bonne journée, Monsieur Grognon._ "

She turns around and runs back the way she came, slipping in and out of the crowd and nearly tripping thrice while he still has vision on her. He huffs before turning and marching towards the designated assessment point. With a hiss of frustration, he realizes that he is five minutes ahead of the designated time frame, and now needs to wait. Gingerly, he opens the bag that Marinette had shoved at him and finds a croissant and a pain-au-chocolat, both golden and still slightly warm.

Warily, he plucks a piece from the croissant and sniffs it for obvious poisons, only finding the rich aroma of butter and bread. After a moment of hesitation he bites into it. The tiny corner melts on his tongue, soft and rich, and the hunger that he had kept at bay for most of the day comes raging back in force. The other pastry is equally as good. Discarding the evidence, he briskly marches towards the meeting point, scanning for one of his grandfather's aides and quietly musing on the girl in pink that fate seemed determined to pull him towards. 

\----

The last time Marinette had been in Gotham, Jason had just been taken in by the family. That week leading up to their trip had been challenging for everyone: Jason was hesitant to accept the new circumstances around his home situation, and Dick was hurt from his apparents replacement. The boys had been having a shouting match in the hallways, cusses flying and _grand-père_ marking down the appropriate payments for the swear jar. Marinette had been sitting in the kitchen on one of the stools, swinging her legs as she chattered about the adventures that her maman and papa had taken her on in Paris and her new friends Nino and Kim when Dick had stormed in. She had broken off mid sentence with a bright squeal before launching herself off the chair at him.

“Sunshine? What are you doing here?” Dick had been flabbergasted to find his tiny French cousin babbling to Alfred.

Alfred had simply sighed and fixed the boy with a flat look. “As I told you, Master Richard, the Dupain-Cheng’s were supposed to arrive early this morning. You would have noticed their arrival had you paid attention to the time rather than your spat between you and Master Jason.”

Marinette had giggled at her Grand-pere’s explanation before scampering out of the kitchen to try and find her new cousin. She rounded the corner and slammed into another person, falling back on her bum with enough force to launch her into tears. The figure hissed out a surprised curse and knelt down to her level, gently tugging her into their lap. A hand began to gently card through her hair as the figure hushed her softly. The shocked tears began to fade when the figure spoke up.

“Shi- shoot, sorry kiddo. Are you hurt?”

Marinette hiccuped and blinked a few tears, looking up at the person cradling her. His face was furrowed with concern and hints of panic, and his black hair was askew. She reached up and brushed her fingers through the strands falling into his eyes with a small giggle.

" _Etes-vous Jason_?” She had asked, curiosity blocking out the early scare.

He stopped and blinked. “Are you the Frenchie?”

She nodded, recognizing the word French, and clambered up from his lap to wrap him in a hug. His hands came around her tentatively as both Grand-pere and Dick came around the corner to suss out the situation. The tension between the two brothers had crackled through the hall and Marinette, five and impatient, had marched Jason over to Dick and set his hand in Dicks.

“ _Vous êtes frères! Pourquoi vous disputez-vous? J’aimerais avoir un gentil frère pour jouer avec._ ”

Jason looked at Alfred for a moment as he yanked his hand out of Dick’s grip, and the elderly butler explained that she wanted to know why they were arguing if they were brothers and how she wished that she had a brother to play with. 

The rest of the week had been similar situations, with Marinette unassumingly easing the tension between the two boys with her bright smiles and boundless enthusiasm. Bruce watched astonished as his tiny niece slowly pulled the boys closer together with her games and plans. Sabine and Tom had simply laughed, clapping their “brother” by proxy on the shoulder and subtly helped Marinette's efforts. Once they were packing to leave the Manor and return to France, Dick and Jason had both come to a solid truce and were thoroughly enamoured with their little cousin.

That had been over four years ago. The cousins had kept in contact with her to tell her all about life around the Manor and to listen to her babble on in a mixture of French and English about what she had done or who she had played with recently. The parents of the two sides arranged for regular video chats, ensuring that the time spent away didn’t make the cousins essentially strangers. Three years ago, Jason had let spill that she had a new cousin named Tim in one of his rants about how life was. She had gasped in excitement and demanded that Jason let her meet him. Bruce had quickly put a pause in that, explaining that the situation was still very new and that they would get to meet a bit later.

Now, Marientte was bouncing through the halls of the large toy-section to try and pick out a gift for her newest cousin. Dick, now working as a detective, had told her that Uncle Bruce had found out he had a biological son and that he had moved in about a year ago. Her parents had arranged for their usual visit to be a bit later to allow the boy to settle in, as Bruce had informed them of his unusual upbringing and his abrasiveness towards strangers. In compromise to a truly spectacular Marinette meltdown, they had promised that they would be there in time for her newest cousin’s birthday so that she could give him a welcoming present like Tim was going to get. Jason had told her that Damian had an appreciation for animals (from what he observed) and was a fair artist. Hence, Marinette was determined to find a suitable stuffie that would be a good welcoming gift to go with the sketchbook she had customized for him. Her parents were content to let her putter through the toys provided that she stayed there while they went and searched for a novel or two to give their new nephews.

It was while she was checking the craftsmanship of a beautiful german shepherd plush when she noticed the other boy in the aisle. He looked frustrated and kept glancing around. Tucking the dog toy under her arm, she cleared her throat.

“Are you lost?”

The boy spun, frown etched on his face and she gave a startled laugh. “You again! Why do I find you lost always?”

Just as before, the boy seemed to be looking for someone. She recalled that his name was Damian and giggled at the situation she was in again.

“I am not lost, simply trying to avoid my accompaniment,” He hissed, irate at her giggling.

She grabbed his hand at this and pulled him towards the other plush animals. “Why are you trying to avoid them?”

“Because they insist on purchasing me a toy when I do not need one or care for one!”

Marinette stopped abruptly, “How is that bad? They want to show you love!”

“Well I do not want it, especially from these imbeciles that my father claims are my brothers!”

Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at him. He glared right back at her. Anger rose up in her and she dropped his hand as she took a step forward. “How dare you, you… _cretin_ ! _Imbécile_!”

“How dare you insult-”

She cut him off, ignoring his posturing. “Your brothers are trying to do something nice, and yet you scorn them? Shame! I would trade _mon_ ... _mon machine à coudre_ for brothers who would do such a thing, brothers in general! You ungrateful-”

He didn’t understand the French that spilled from her, despite the French lessons that Father insisted he have to prepare for his supposed cousin’s arrival. She paused, hissing out a breath before turning to face him.

“Why do you not want them to gift you something?”

He rolled his eyes, “I already told-”

“Non, you did not. You told me a, a... _facade_. What is the root?”

Her blue eyes pierced into him, like chips of ice. The iron will that bled through them surprised him, and he paused. There was no reason that he should tell her anything, he didn’t need to explain himself to a veritable stranger. And yet, fate seemed to have pulled them together yet again during one of his assigned missions.

He huffed, “I do not understand the purpose. It was not customary for such… frivolous gifts upon one's birthday where I grew up.”

Her entire demeanor softened at his explanation. She looked at him quizzically before her eyes went wide. “Ah, _tu ne comprends pas la raison._ I explain for you, it is simply to congratulate you on your birthday. A way of showing love or appreciation. Given from the heart.”

“Regardless, it is a waste of resources.”

“ _Non_ , _c’est pas ça."_ She paused, thinking for a moment. “You have not had such a tradition before, no?”

“I have told you that I have not.”

A sigh and a pause as she seemed to contemplate the best angle of approach for her next words. “Then this could be a way of them welcoming you. Sharing traditions is important to people.”

He blinked, “Like an initiation?”

“ _Dieu on haut._ If that makes sense to you then yes. An introduction to their customs.”

Damian paused, thinking over Grayson and Todd’s apparent excitement to bring him to select a toy. They had commented how it was a right of passage on the first birthday in the Manor, and shoved him into the car before he could fully protest at the indignity of the situation.

“Come, I help you select _ton cadeau_.” Marinette grabbed his hand again, and pulled him deeper towards the stuffed creatures.

The next few minutes she questioned what he enjoyed doing and why, things that he had wanted to try when he was younger and other such ideas. He answered curtly, tired at the whole ordeal already, while she dragged him towards a large wall of brightly coloured toys. She stood on her tiptoes and plucked a box out, pressing it into his hands. The image displayed a miniature bonsai constructed out of different bricks.

“It is Lego. Good for alone time and this works as… _quel mot..._ _décor_. Functional, but still a toy.”

He turned it over, looking at the different sets around them. She had glossed over the simpler kits in bright colours, including the sets more tailored to his age, instead picking out one intended for adults. She hadn’t judged him based on his apparent age.

“Is it good for you?”

He nodded, flickers of warmth curling in his belly. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Her smile was less blinding, but no less warm. “ _De rein._ I must go find my parents. Are you fine?”

“My… brothers will no doubt find me momentarily.”

She gave him that same smile before leaning in for a gentle hug, “ _Bonne fortune_.”

With a final wave, she walked back down the long aisle, plucking a beautiful German Shepherd plush from the wall. Damian watched as her pink dress rounded the corner and picked out a conversation in French that began to disappear as he turned back to the wall of Lego sets, observing the different styles. Glancing down at the bonsai in his hands, he noticed that the set included both pink and green leaves, and couldn’t stop the surprised smile that flicked across his face.

\----

Marinette drank in the sight of Wayne Manor from the back of the car, admiring the different wings and balconies. No matter how many times they came, it was always an imposing sight that she cherished. Her parents pulled their rental car around the gravel path, parking it next to the sleek black vehicle that sat outside. The doors of the manor begin to open and Marinette can make out her _grand-père_ and uncle. Before she can open the door, Sabine turns and puts a hand on her knee.

“Remember, your new cousins have had very different childhoods and may react strangely to you. Be gentle with them.”

Marinette nods. “ _D’accord, Maman._ ”

Sabine smiles at her daughter and lets go of her knee. The nine-year-old pushes open the door and tugs out her backpack and gift before careening up to her _grand-père_ . Her parents watch with fond exasperation as they pull the bags out from the back of the trunk and close the errant door. Marinette is already launching into one of her stories from school, telling both Alfred and Bruce about how Kim had been dared to jump into the _Seine_ , and how afterwards he had been sick for three weeks with a cold and then Nino had caught it from him. Bruce pulled away from the energetic nine-year-old to greet Sabine and Tom, hugging them both before pulling a few of their suitcases out from their grips and ushering them into the manor. Marinette clutched Alfred’s hand as he led her towards her usual bedroom for their stays.

“How was the flight?” Bruce asked as he helped the Parisians to their room.

Tom smiled at him, “As it usually is: Our Mari slept through the entire thing and neither Sabine nor I caught a dream thanks to the assortment of fussy children and snoring adults.”

Bruce chuckled, clapping Tom on the back. “It’s good to have you here. Dick and Jason have been talking non-stop about seeing their god-uncle and cousin. Tim is more reserved, but I can tell that he is also curious about Marinette.”

“Where are the rascals?” Sabine asked. “I would have expected them to amush us at the doorway.”

A young giggle and set of footsteps scampered past the door, Alfred offering a gentle smile at his godson and wife as he followed. Off to find Tim then, it seemed. Bruce turned back to face Sabine, helping her set a truly impressive suitcase on the bed.

“They’re out with Damian right now, selecting a birthday gift with him.” Bruce sighed and sat on the bedspread as the other two began to unpack their things. “Damian is… rough around the edges. He had a very hard upbringing and is having trouble adapting.”

Sabine nodded, patting his shoulder. “Give him time. Nino, one of Marinette’s friends, also struggled with adjusting from Morocco. While I don’t imagine that these are the exact same, I can assure you that the path he walks will smooth.”

“Besides,” Tom offered from inside the closet, “If our Marinette can win over Jason in a day or two, then she can certainly crack through any armour this Damian has.”

Bruce sighed. “One can only hope.”

“What about this Cassandra?” Sabine asked, placing a few wrapped packages on the dresser.

“Her parents were… very removed and neglected to teach her how to speak. She is learning, but it is still difficult.”

“Poor thing, that must be _très difficile_.” Sabine sighed and sat next to Bruce. “I doubt that will be a problem for Marinette, she could talk the paint off the walls.”

By the time the adults moved towards the sitting room, they found Marinette and Tim in an animated conversation around different artistic techniques that pertained to both fashion and photography. Tim was running his fingers over a handmade blanket with a ribbon crumpled on the floor while they spoke in French. Alfred entered a few moments later with tea and biscuits, pouring a small cup and liberally adding sugar and cream before passing it to Marinette. Tim takes the offered cup from Alfred a moment later, the tea pitch-black in comparison to the creamy brown of Marinette’s. Letting the cousins converse on the ground, Marinette pointing out the different techniques that she had used and Tim showing her different pictures from his camera, the adults began to chat amongst themselves. Tom hugged Alfred before sitting, pleased to see his god-father again.

“How is Bruce your uncle?” Tim asked after a moment, glancing towards the adults and noticing the lack of genetic similarity.

Marinette giggled, scooching slightly closer to him after putting her teacup back on the table. “He’s not really, and neither is my _grand-père_ . _Grand-mère_ and Monsieur Pennyworth were good friends, and so he is my papa’s _perrain…_ father by choice?”

Tim blinked, translating the word. “Do you mean godfather?”

“Oui! It is nice to have someone who understands!”

Tim paused, rubbing the blanket between his fingers. “But why did you make me a blanket?”

“Because I didn’t get to meet you for three years! I missed so many of your birthdays and papa didn’t want to overwhelm you by sending packages from France…” her eyebrows pinched together, “but I didn’t understand how that would be overwhelming.”

Tim runs the math, realizing that she didn’t know that he had only been adopted just over a year and a half ago. It was likely that her parents had kept the circumstances around his adoption from her for the time being. The changes had been sudden and tumultuous for him, and even now he was terrified of disappointing Bruce somehow. To receive a package from an unknown cousin would have been disconcerting.

“Still! I am happy to make it for you,” She grabbed his hand gently. “We are family, _non_? Family cares for one another.”

Her expression was nothing but earnest as she said that. He was used to seeing hidden motives or microexpressions in another, was used to finding subterfuge and yet there was nothing but openness and affection in her young face. They hadn’t had the chance to get to know each other much beyond this moment and she was calling him family. Tim was beginning to understand why Dick and Jason spoke so highly of her - Marinette was kind through her core and exuded warmth. He doubted that there was a cruel bone in her body, if this was the way she treated near-strangers. It was no wonder that Dick called her Sunshine, and Jason dubbed her Pixie. After a moment of hesitation, he leaned over to give her a hug. She reciprocated in kind, squeezing him tightly and squishing her face into his chest. He sat there for a minute, nose grazing her hair, and basked in the warmth that she gave. She made no movement to pull away, rather snuggled closer and adjusted her grip with a happy sigh. 

“You give the best hugs,” She murmured a moment later, melting further into him.

Warmth flashed through him at her quiet statement. He would never admit it to anyone, as it was embarrassing to have such ideas as a teenager, but he often craved the gentle contact that you see in films. Despite this, he rarely gave hugs, both due to his upbringing and the nature of the chaos that was this household. Yet this girl, who lived with two parents that he knew doted on her, decided that his hugs were her favourite.

He let go reluctantly, pulling back upon realizing that the hug had been going on far too long. Marinette followed suit with a bright smile that fell as she looked at his face.

“What’s wrong?”

He glanced at her, alarmed. “Nothing, why would you ask?”

Her hand brushed between his eyebrows and over his temple. The warmth from her hand eased the unknown tension there and he looked at her. “Here. It is stiff. And your eyes look closed. Why?”

A pregnant pause stretched between them. Marientte’s gentle gaze didn’t change, just open concern. Tim flitted through several answers before settling on the truth.

“It’s just… been quite some time since I last had a hug. I didn’t realize how I missed it until then.”

Understanding flashed across her face and she smiled gently. “Do you enjoy reading?”

“Not fictional books, but otherwise yes. Why?”

She winked before grabbing his hand and pulling him up. The conversation around them stopped and she declared that Tim was going to teach her about modern photography techniques to better understand why fashion show pictures looked as they did. Her parents nodded, and she began to pull him out of the sitting room.

“Do you prefer the Library or your own room?”

“The Library.” 

Once they had arrived, she thumbed through the shelves that she could reach before pulling out a biography on Vivian Maier.

“That is a lovely biography if you enjoy lesser known photographers.”

Marinette grinned and pressed the book into his hands before plopping onto one of the sofas nearby. She patted the space next to her that was near the arm. With a hint of curiosity he sat down next to her. Once he had gotten comfortable, she wiggled her way under his arms and curled up into his side to face the pictures in the book. Warmth flooded him as she finished fidgeting and sighed contentedly, her body going lax as she tilted her head to smile up at him.

“Now we can read and snuggle while we wait for them! You don’t have to read out loud if you don’t want, I’m happy to just sit here and-” a yawn “-rest.”

Dick and Jason were right, she was a miracle given form and wickedly intelligent. Without the full story, she had somehow pieced together his wish for physical affection and not only created but enacted a plan to help him. He began to read to her, commenting on the various images that appeared as she dozed against his side. It didn’t take long until she slumped down further onto his lap. He kept reading, slipping the book into one hand and carding the other through her hair as she hummed slightly at the contact. Sabine popped in on them after a moment, causing Tim to freeze. The elder woman smiled at him and waved quietly before returning down the hall. Time stretched and shifted as he read, Marientte still pressed against him, before he heard the rumble of an engine and a pair of voices laughing. There were a few exclamations and shared greetings before two pairs of boots thumped down the hallway towards the Library. Dick and Jason both tumbled through the door, hissing a few curses as they raced over towards Tim.

“She’s sleeping!” He hissed, when they opened their mouths. Marinette shifted slightly, mumbling something as she pressed closer to his stomach.

Dick broke into a bright grin, “You two are so cute!”

“That’s your concern?” Jason whispered, ribbing the elder brother. “How are we going to wake her up?”

“... _Tim? Ça va?”_

The boys froze at the sleepy voice, glancing down towards Marinette. She shifted again, blinking up at him with concern before her face split into a bright grin.

“Birdy! Tello! You are here!”

Dick laughs and reaches down to pluck her from the couch, propping her on his hip before pulling her into a hug. “Hiya Sunshine! How’d you sleep?”

“Tim’s a really good reader, just like you Jay! And very good at hugs!”

Jason pulled Marinette out of Dick’s hands to give her a hug. Tim glanced between the two of them, “Why Birdy and Tello?”

Dick grinned and opened his mouth but the petite girl beat him to it, “Dick is birdy because he always wanted to fly when we would play, and Jason is Tello because of the play he read to me!”

Tim looks at Jason, “You read her Othello when you met her?”

His predecessor flushes, “In my defense, I didn’t realize how it ended.”

“Where is Odette?” Marientte interrupts, glancing around the library.

The boys blinked at her, “Who?”

“Odette! _Ma cousine_! I do not think it was her real name but she couldn’t tell me so I picked this one because she was like the princess from _le ballet_.”

Tim pieced the fragment of information together, sucking in a breath. “How did you meet Cass?”

Marinette wiggled down from Jason, landing on the floor with a gentle thump before grabbing Tim’s hand and pulling the group out of the library. “I found her behind _le patisserie_ when she was _à Paris,_ keeping warm by the wall of the oven. _Elle_ _besoin_ a place to stay, so we shared and helped her.”

She chattered on, oblivious to the concerned looks that the boys shared. Cassandra had never mentioned meeting Marinette, nor the Dupain-Chengs. They had known that she had passed through Paris on her way to Gotham to avoid her pursuers, given that she had pressed a plane tick into Alfred’s hand when he asked where she had come from.

They turned back to Marinette’s rambling, “-did you not see her on one of our calls? She was in the room. I explained to her how I knew you since it was _une surprise_ to her. She told me she was going to meet you because you were _famille?_ A lost sister. I didn’t tell you because she wanted it to be _une surprise_ , but she told me that it had gone well and she was here!”

“Wait, Sunshine. How did she talk to you?”

Marinette paused, looking at Dick with an expression of disbelief, “Well she didn’t talk-talk. More like I talk, she nod if I am right. Hi Odette!”

The girl in question was dropping from the rafters with a smile. Marinette ran up to her and enveloped her in a hug before grabbing Cass’s hand and pulling her towards the sitting room. The boys stopped and looked at eachother, wide eyed.

Tim broke the silence, “Do you think Cassandra sought us out because of Marinette?”

“It’s likely, but from the sounds of it this was before Cass even had any verbal language. That means it was over...” Dick glanced up, considering for a moment “That means it was over four years ago.”

“Holy shit,” Jason muttered. “How does that even happen? A master assassin stumbling into the one person who has ties to us in all of France?”

Dick glanced at Tim. “Do you think that-”

Whatever he was going to say was stopped by a loud exclamation from the sitting room. “ _Le destin nous fait une blague à tous les deux!"_

Inside they found a very still Damian and a giggling Marinette. Tom and Sabine were whispering to each other, and Bruce looked confused. Cass simply looked smug.

“Sunshine?” Dick ventured, worried about the atmosphere in the room.

Marinette turned to him, still giggling, “You are his brothers!”

Damian recovered then and cleared his throat, “Hello again, Marinette. Madame, Monsieur.”

Bruce’s eyes went sharp, “Damian, explain please.”

The boy straightened at the tone, sinking into a perfect military stance. “I met the Dupain-Chengs several years ago during a… family trip to the Louvre when I was six, and I encountered Marinette again the year before I arrived.”

“-and again this morning while you were selecting _ton cadeau!_ ” Marinette exclaimed, having finally recovered. 

“ _Il n'y a que les montagnes qui ne se rencontrent jamais,_ ” Sabine murmured to Tom. “It is lovely to see you in good health, Damian.”

“You as well, _Madame._ ”

Marinette gasped suddenly before darting out of the room with a quick shout that she would be right back. The room froze, and Sabine sighed before turning to Bruce.

“I suspected that there might be a blood tie between you when I first saw him, but thought nothing of it. After all, Bruice the “serial adopter” of Gotham ignoring one of his children? Nigh impossible.”

Bruce had the decency to grimace, “His mother kept his existence from me until last year when some… unforeseen circumstances prevented her from caring for him.”

She hummed, turning to face Jason and startling at the white shock of hair he had. “ _Deiu,_ What happened Jason?”

He hesitated, glancing at Bruce. “A conversation for later, perhaps.”

Before anyone could respond, Marinette careened back into the room holding a gift bag and a wrapped square. She pressed them into Damian’s hands with a blinding smile.

" _Bon anniversaire!”_

Damian glanced at Bruce as if for permission before opening up the bag and pulling out the German Shepherd that he had seen in the store. There was a little tag on the side that read _Ace_. The square package turned out to be a tastefully decorated sketchbook, with a subtle geometric pattern in blues and greens along the black cover.

He turned to face her, inclining his head, “ _Pratique et simple. Merci beaucoup, Marinette._ ”

She beamed at his thanks and swept in for a hug as per her usual routine. This time, however, he returned it slightly before pulling back. The others looked on with no small amount of amazement, save for Cass. When they had broached the topic of a gift for his birthday, he had been adamant that unless it was a weapon, it was of no use to him. It had taken all of Dick and Jason’s skills to get him into the car to go toy-shopping, and once they had arrived at the Mall, the youngest Wayne had vanished before they hit the first toy section. Dick had found him quite a while later standing near the Lego section and holding an elegant set in one hand as he scowled at the others. He had all but shoved the box into Dick’s hand, huffing that if they were insistent on purchasing something so frivolous, it might as well be this. Seeing him accepting the gifts from Marienette with such ease once again asserted Dick’s theory that their cousin was a literal ray of sunshine trapped in a human form. 

Alfred clapped his hands, gathering the attention of the room, and ushers the family into the dining room in preparation for dinner. The other boys look at Marinette and Damian, the former chattering on about how she made the pattern and what had happened since she last found him. Damian listened with a neutral expression, a sharp contrast to the animated gesturing and expressions next to him, but his shoulders lost the sharp edges that he often carried. Other conversations picked up after the plates were served. Marinette pulled anyone who seemed left out into a conversation with her, focusing especially on Cass and Damian. Bruce was in deep discussion with Sabine, and Tom was laughing with Dick over the hijinks that he had gotten into over in Bludhaven.

Jason turned to Tim after a moment, “If Pixie can tame two of the most feral assassins we know within the span of a few meetings, I shudder to think what will happen in the future.”

Tim snorts, glancing at Damian. The youngest Wayne was listening intently to Marinette’s recount of how she had chased a dog through the streets of Paris to return it to its owner despite her parent’s protests. For once, he looked like a normal 10-year old rather than a master assassin trapped in a smaller body.

 _A miracle indeed,_ Tim thinks to himself as dessert is brought out.

\----

The rest of the week is, surprisingly, uneventful. Arkham asylum suffers no breakouts and any minor villain schemes are quickly handled by Nightwing and Red Robin. Marinette and Cass get on like a house on fire, much to the boy’s concern. Jason had walked into the library one day to find Cass signing something to Marientte and Marientte replying just as quickly before arguing about the validity of silk based armor in olden days. Cass’s finders had turned into a blur and Marinette had watched with a look of intense concentration before disagreeing. Jason had turned and left, not wanting to get in between the two girls and their passionate discussion of fashionable armor. Damian slowly warms up to the Dupain-Chengs, much to Bruce’s relief. It becomes commonplace for Marinette to seek out Damian as he quietly works away from the others. They don’t speak much, Marinette simply placing herself in the same room and working in her own sketchbook. Several nights Marinette falls asleep at the dinner table, exhausted from bouncing rapid fire between her cousins as she tries to soak in every moment possible with them. Dick or Bruce would often scoop her up from the table to bring her to bed. Cass or Sabine would slip in later to pull off any necessary clothing and get her situated.

To say that Damian had been wary of this unknown supposed “cousin” before her arrival was evident. It seemed that no matter who he asked the answer to who she was and what her intentions were would vary, as would her name. Father had pulled him aside before the arrival of the Parisians to explain that while they were not blood ties, they still had a strong place in the family. It had been Alfred to give him the most succinct answer while Damian had been nursing a cup of tea and trying to research the newcomers.

“Enough of that, Master Daminan,” the elderly butler had chided as he plucked the tablet out of his hands. “Any questions you have about the Dupain-Chengs I will answer to the best of my ability.”

Ever blunt and still adjusting to the dynamic of the Manor, Damian had gone straight to his primary concern. “Are they a threat?”

“A fine question, but you will need to be more detailed than that. A threat to whom?”

“To the hierarchy in this family, and to our identities.”

Alfred had set the kettle on and begun to prepare breakfast. “The short answer is no, Master Damian, to both questions. I would once again remind you that the only hierarchy in this household is one between adults and children, Master Richard included in the latter.”

Damian had clicked his tongue in disbelief. “How did they come to be part of this family? Coercion? Blackmail?”

“Again, neither. Master Tom is my god-son, and his mother is a close personal friend from my tenure prior to the Wayne’s. Would you like me to tell you a bit about the family?”

“Yes.”

Focused on making the crepes that were the usual Saturday morning fair, Alfred had given a brief overview of the family, explaining that the relationship between Tom Dupain and his father was strained due to conflict surrounding family traditions. Not wanting to deprive their daughter of a second _grand-père_ , and due to the close relationship that Tom had fostered with Alfred, the family came to visit approximately every four years. They had delayed to allow Tim, Cassandra and Damain time to adapt, but their daughter was determined to come this summer with or without their permission, hence the visit. Their only daughter, Marinette, was an intelligent and caring girl who was passionate about creating things. In her first visit here, she had charmed both Todd and Grayson in the span of a few days and had endeared herself to his Father. Damian was mildly impressed at that, given the nature of their respective relationships. It also, however, made her more of a threat to him despite Pennyworth’s intentions. To be able to charm such prickly people with ease could mean the use of magic or something equally dangerous. 

However, as the Dupain-Cheng’s visit draws to a close, Damian begins to understand why the others speak so highly of them. Tom is a gentle-giant, as Grayson had explained, and Sabine had a sharp wit and even sharper intelligence. Both proved true as the adults had gently engaged him in conversation to introduce themselves and assure him that they took no offence to his stand-offishness; after all, they were forigen guests in his home that he had barely gotten to meet. Marinette, however, was as refreshing as a breeze in the hot desert sun. She rarely pushed him as she did with the others, instead simply asking for permission to join him in his workspace and sitting quietly with him while working independently. Unlike his brothers, she was content to sit in silence, a gentle hum here and there punctuating the soft scratching of pencil on paper. When he would take a walk to check the perimeter, a habit that he refused to drop regardless of his Father’s assurances, she would join him and hum softly to herself as she took in the surroundings. He had questioned her early on in the week, biting out his questions with the usual venom that would get the most flirtatious classmates out of his way. She has answered in kind, biting back sarcastic remarks interspersed with colourful French out of Alfred’s earshot. That alone had gained her another iota of his respect.

“ _Pour vous,_ ” Marientte offers him a folded piece of paper with his name on it as her parents and Father load their luggage into the trunk of a rental car.

“Why.”

She gives him the soft smile that his bluntness seemed to draw out of her, “Because you are _famille_.”

She leaves it at that, and he tucks the paper into his pocket. Marientte turns and practically climbs onto Grayson and Todd, pressing _bisous_ to their cheeks and giggling at their replies. She gives both of them a folded paper as well, and they sweep her up into hugs again in response. Cassandra, for he understood how she hated to be called Cain, signed something to Marinette. The younger girl rolled her eyes and signed something back with the deliberateness that comes from just beginning a language before hugging her as well. Rather than a hug, the pair did an elaborate handshake. Todd gaped at the number of steps, and Grayson began to complain that he didn’t have one too. Marinette stuck her tongue out at him before turning to Drake. Surprisingly, she lingered in her hug with Drake, sighing softly and relaxing into his grip. When she pulled back, she gave him a bright smile and murmured something softly. He too got a slip of paper, and he blinked at it before pulling her into an even tighter hug. A solemn handshake with Father and a gentle hug with Pennyworth marks her exit. As her parents pull away from the Manor, a small hand pokes out of the window and begins to frantically wave at everyone until the car is no longer in sight.

As soon as the car disappears, both Grayson and Todd rip open their paper. Grayson breaks into a startled laugh when he sees Todd’s paper and the pair dissolve into a wrestling match as they head back inside. Drake unfolds his with care and rubs a thumb over whatever is on the creamy artist’s paper. Cass pulls a tiny origami swan out from her pocket, beaming towards Pennyworth before scampering back to wherever she normally goes in the day. Damian pulls his paper out and looks at it for a moment before gingerly unfolding it.

Inside is a startling well-drawn outfit on what appears to be a fashion form that resembles him. Crisp lines transform a simple black suit into something richer, with accents of forest green and gold lining the lapels and cuffs of the suit jacket. A tiny Robin is drawn in detail in one of the corners with a small note. He pauses as he reads the note, relieved to see that she simply attributed it to a perceived preference towards the bird. There is a letter on the bottom half of the page, and he reads it with a frown.

 _Dear Monsior_ _Grognon_ ,

 _I know that you may not care for this, but I extend it because you are_ famille. _I have often calls with my other cousins, and would enjoy getting to know you more. It can be very difficult to understand this family, and change is_ très difficile _as_ maman _always explains, so I will do my best to help you even if any call is an excuse to sit quietly without interruption._

 _I give drawings to say goodbye as a little gift of affection. You can ask Uncle Bruce about it if you are_ \- several words are scratched out, thick blocks of black ink with little spaces in between - _if you want extra explanation._

_I enjoyed meeting you for permanence, Damian. It is nice to have a familiar face for once join this family. I hope that you do call. I enjoy spending time with you._

Bisous,

_Marinette_

He folds the parting gift back up, tucking it into his pocket once again. As the Manor doors shut behind him, he cannot help but remember Marinette's gentle presence as he patrolled and her determination to include him in any family activities regardless of what the others complained about.

\----

Marinette drinks in the sight of Gotham one last time as they drive towards the airport. Whenever she tells people that her family vacations there, she is always met with a hint of disbelief. After all, why would such a lovely family choose to vacation in one of the most crime-riddled cities for weeks at a time? It is not that she ignores the crime of the city, having seen the aftermath of various villain attacks more than once, but she loves the towering sky-scrapers and stone gargoyles in spite of it.

Her papa catches her eye in the rearview mirror. “Did you enjoy your time with your cousins?”

She beams back at him, “So very much. I wish that we could come more often.”

“We know, dear. It is just difficult with our bakery.”

“I know, _maman_. I just wish it, but I wish for many things.”

Sabine reaches her hand back towards her daughter, and Marinette slips her fingers in between her _maman’s_ to give them a squeeze before turning back to the window. The skyline of the city begins to shrink as they get closer to the airport, and her thoughts turn back to the not-so-mysterious cousin she had met. Despite his prickly exterior, she could see hints of a very nice person slip through when he thought that nobody was watching. While it seemed to her that he had no taste for her presence, he never once denied her request to sit and work quietly near him. He had sketched in the sketchbook she gave him, handling it with a hidden care that she found curious.

The car pulled into the rental lot, and she helped unload the luggage. The painted apple blossoms on the black case were a tiny flicker of spring in the grey airport terminal. Her mind kept flicking back to the letter she had left him, and the curious circumstances of their meetings. Across a screen in a nearby gate, she catches a flight leaving for Shanghai and is reminded of her mother’s explanation of _Yuanfen_ , a relationship bound by fate.

 _Maybe_ , she muses as they board the plane, _maybe he will reach out._

\----

It begins like this:

In a room across the ocean, an old man feels the tremors of change ripple through the air. Opening an old box, he glances at the two empty spots within and feels the cold hand of fate brush against his hand. He closes the box before turning to his ancient companion, two pairs of solemn eyes meet each other in understanding, and the man sets on a pot of hot water to boil. Centuries old meets immortal halfway as tea is poured and a prayer prayed before the pair return to sleep.

Nearby, in a marble house warmed by love, a fair woman collapses in the bathroom. Her husband wakes at the noise and cries out in alarm, pulling her bloodied head into his arms and calling for an ambulance. A family is rushed to the hospital. The man sits at his wife's side, one hand clasping hers and the other clasping that of their young son who stares with wide eyes at the pale form of his mother. The woman gives the men of her life a small smile and kisses her husband's hand before telling them to go home and rest for the night. The doctor caring for her assures the family that she will be okay and is staying the night as a precaution, and the boy breathes a sigh of relief. The man, however, remembers a beautiful brooch and a desperate fight as the first grains of lead drop into his stomach.

Sitting in a sun-warmed room, a master assassin traces his pencil over a sketch of a newfound cousin, gently shading in the crinkles around the eyes. Next to him, a piece of paper with an email address rests on top of a parting gift. His eyes trace over the neat loops that his brother had scribbled down at his request, contemplative. A black box with a potted bonsai crafted of many pieces catches his attention, the plush dog next to it watching him with wise eyes. Inside of the boy, training and yearning war over a small choice. A trace of music floats under the door, punctuating the gentle shushing of his pencil on the page, and he pauses. _Kismet_ , he thinks, his choice made. He sets down his sketchbook, seeks out the one person who has yet to lead him wrong in this unfamiliar environment, and begins to craft the first letter to someone whom he cannot call cousin, but perhaps he could call friend.

And on a crowded plane overtop of the Atlantic ocean, a young girl smiles softly in her sleep as her dreams carry her through the night, wholly unaware of the threads that fate weaves.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it here, Welcome! I have absolutely NO idea what I am doing. Most of my knowledge of the MLB universe comes from season one and the unholy amount of Fan-fiction I have read on this site. As for the DCU, well, that comes mainly from my very good friend who inspired this work. Originally, I had planned to write something about 5k words long, the full story inclusive. My brain, of course, took that number and added a zero. So! more to come soon-ish.
> 
> It's a crazy world out there, so let's check in for a moment. Have you drank anything recently? Eaten something? Are you up to date on any meds you need? Do you maybe need a quick nap? Hey hey! Relax your shoulders and jaw, it's okay! You're doing great, I'm so proud of you. Keep looking after yourself, you funky complex succulent you! I love you!


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